


one bright moment (is all i ask)

by ohhotlamb



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, HE DIES OKAY ITS SAD, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sad Ending, THIS IS VERY VERY SAD AND ANGSTY DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE DON'T WANT TO READ A SAD ENDING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhotlamb/pseuds/ohhotlamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One last call. On the brink, he tries to make every moment count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one bright moment (is all i ask)

He didn't have any clue why the driver had been drunk at 1 pm on a Wednesday, and normally he doesn’t give a shit of what other people do. As long as he had kept him out of it, that sad, pathetic man could have drunk until he drowned for all Aomine cared. He could have maneuvered the city streets on unsteady feet, swerving in his beat-up shoes and finding refuge under the train station awning, hooting at girls until the cops showed up to take him away.

But the sad, pathetic man happened to own a car. The sad, pathetic man ran out of liquor or wanted a snack or decided to go yell at his estranged wife, so he got into his car, started the engine, and put the gear shift into drive.

At that point he was probably too far gone to make sense of traffic lights. People were probably fuzzy shapes in his blurry eyes, insignificant stick figures without faces. They weren’t people to him anymore; they didn’t have careers, or hobbies, or people that they loved so much it felt like a vice on the heart, like a fire in their lungs and sparks running all across their skin. They were no longer human beings who lived everyday not giving a second thought as to what could happen if they happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. They were part of his obstacle course now; they were things he should probably avoid (after all, he was in a hurry). And he tried, Aomine was sure. He probably tried the best his delirious mind had allowed of him. But in the end, it had just been too much. He had blown through a red light, noticed a fuzzy figure only when it was too late. The figure had cracked his windshield into a mess of spiderweb fissures – they had rolled over his roof, only to lay crumpled on the ground behind him as he continued on to smash into a utility pole.

Aomine doesn’t know if the man wanted more booze or snacks or reconciliation, and he’s never going to get to know. From the way he sees the woman covering her mouth as she looks inside the wrecked car, he can only assume that the man isn’t going to be able to ever tell anyone where he had been going in such a hurry.

But whatever it had been, was it really so important that he had to strip Aomine of everything, too?

His life, his family, every person he has ever loved. By the end of the hour they’re all going to be weeping; they’re going to curse the day that man was born. There will be months of mourning, maybe years. Black clothing, therapy, not wanting to get out of bed (not now, not  _ever)._ He's never going to be able to do half the things he wanted - after all, he never thought about rushing. Because just a minute ago, he had had all the time in the world. 

But by far the worst part of all this was knowing that tonight, one side of the mattress was going to stay cold. He was going to leave the keeper of his heart all on his own, left to deal with the grief in an empty apartment. 

It kills him. Even as he lies dying, it _kills_ him. 

He knows an ambulance has already been called – the woman from before had done that. People are standing around him in horror, looking down with such terrified faces, and he doesn’t blame them. He must look like death itself. 

No one tries to touch him - they probably don't want to accidentally make it worse, and none of them look like they know what to do. Even if they did, even if the best surgeon in the world had for some reason been strolling down the sidewalk at that moment, it's not like it'd make a difference. He knows there’s nothing they can do for him anymore – the only obvious bleeding is from the tattered skin scraped clean off his forehead and chin, the stream from his nose. The rest of the bleeding is inside him – inside his destroyed body, within his broken ribs and organs. His heart is beating on feebly, and he guesses he has five minutes left. Maybe ten, maximum.

He needs to make the most of what he has.

“Hey, you,” he gasps to a man to his right. He jumps, looking petrified, and if Aomine wasn’t in a hurry here he’d roll his eyes. “Can…can you get my phone for me? It’s in my pocket. I gotta make a c-call.”

The man doesn’t reply with words; he steps forward shakily, kneels on the ground. He delicately takes the phone from Aomine’s pocket and holds it out to him. Aomine shakes his head, his bruised skull crunching against stray gravel.

“Look under...recent calls for me. The name is ‘Taiga’. Got a ‘lil heart next to it.”

“Alright,” the man says quietly. He takes a moment tapping around, before he stoops down and gently presses the phone to Aomine’s ear. Aomine reaches up to hold it there – and _God does that hurt,_ his arm must be fractured in a million places, his shoulder ripped from the socket, but he grits his teeth and holds the phone to his ear as it rings. He mouths a tired ‘ _thanks’,_ and the man nods. Everyone around him steps away, averts their eyes, like they’re trying to give him some privacy, like it’s the least they can do.

He doesn’t have to wait long – which is a miracle in and of itself. Kagami isn’t known for being very tech-savvy, and tends to leave his phone in one spot the entire day, only checking it sporadically for texts and voicemails. So when his voice answers, Aomine nearly sobs with relief. But he holds it in, holds his breath and with one word his dying heart skips a beat.

_“Yeah?”_

Aomine smiles. He sounds grumpy – he wonders how he’s been doing today. His shift at the restaurant doesn’t start for a few hours, so it probably wasn’t an annoying customer. He wants to ask about it, wants for Kagami to tell him all about his day, wants to ask a penny for his thoughts. But he’s short on time, and every moment is precious. He braces himself, tries to push the utter agony of his body aside, to sound as casual as possible. “Hey, hotstuff. How ya doin’?”

Kagami snorts. _“Hotstuff is doin’ just fine. Been picking up some groceries for this week.”_ He pauses. _“Why do you sound so outta breath?”_

_Shit._

“Ah, I just ran up a couple flights of stairs. I guess I’ve been slacking with my exercise," he rasps.

Kagami makes a noise of understanding. _“I thought I saw a little extra belly fat last night.”_

Aomine laughs, and the sound drags out of him like a punch to the gut. He coughs, reaching up his other hand to wipe at the blood dripping down his lip.

_“Jesus, that sounded awful. Are you getting sick?”_

“Aha, no. I just hit my shin on my desk drawer. Hurts like a bitch.” He takes a rattling breath. “What are you wearing right now?”

_“Are you seriously trying to have phone sex with me while you’re at work?”_

“Even I’m not stupid enough to do that, idiot. ‘m trying to picture you just right.”

Kagami hums, and Aomine faintly hears dull thumps – if he’s right, it’s the sound of the kitchen cabinets getting slammed shut. He must be putting away the groceries. _“I’m wearing that Lakers t-shirt Momoi doesn’t like me wearing in public. You know the one, right?”_

“With all the little holes ‘round the collar?”

_“The very same.”_

“And you wore it in public anyway?” Aomine wheezes another laugh, flinches and holds back the pained whine in the back of his throat.

_“Fuck off. It’s really comfortable. And are you sure you're alright? You sound funny.”_

“'m fine, 'm fine. And chill, 'm not judgin' you on your ratty shirt. What else?”

_“Uh, well. Nothin’ special, I guess. Jeans. The pair with the green paint spot on the knee. And my junk shoes.”_

“The white sneakers?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Briefs?”

_“Pervert. No, boxers.”_

 “Aw, Taiga. You know how partial I am to tightie-whities.” Aomine smiles in spite of the way his vision is starting to edge with black. “I bet you look real good right now.”

_“You probably don’t look half-bad yourself.”_

“I’m flattered,” Aomine says, and he means it. His smile fades, and he licks his tongue over his bloody teeth - he thinks a few might be missing. He swallows, painfully, and he covers the sound of discomfort with another racking cough. He clears his throat. “Hey, Taiga.”

 _“Hmm? What is it?”_ Kagami murmurs, sounding distracted – just one more thing Aomine wishes he could ask about. Was Kagami looking though one of his hundreds of cookbooks for what he should make for dinner? Was there a basketball game on TV? So many questions, so many things Aomine would trade anything for to be able to ask them.

He holds back the sob building as hard as he can; it takes a few moments, his throat working, and Kagami makes a questioning noise over the phone. _“Daiki?”_

“Yeah, ’m here. Just…you know that even though I give you a ton of shit, I still love you, right?” He closes his eyes, his mouth twisting in a grimace, and he fights with his body, fights for the last of the strength that he feels being bled into the concrete with each second.  _Fight it, fight it, not yet. Not yet._

_“I - Daiki. You okay?”_

When Aomine opens his eyes, he sees a few of the people standing around looking at him with the worst expressions he’s ever seen, filled with dread and pity and anguish. The rest of them are staring down at the ground, looking lost. Dead inside. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine. But you know, right? That I love you? More than anything?”

Kagami laughs, and it sounds forced – Aomine clenches his eyes closed, battles with his breathing, because he knows he’s on the verge of getting found out.

_“Where’s this coming from? Did you record over one of my shows again? Yeah, sure I know that. Hey, give the phone to Kuroko for a sec. I wanna ask him somethin'.”_

_This is it._

“He…uh. He stepped out for a coffee break.”

_“Fine. Give me Kise, then.”_

“They went together.”

_“Riko.”_

“She’s in a meeting.”

Kagami growls. _“Daiki. Give the phone to someone in your office right now.”_

 _He knows. Shit, he_ knows _._

“I…I can’t. ’m sorry, I _can’t_.”

 _“Shit,”_ Kagami mutters, then more loudly, his voice starting to seep with panic. _“Where are you? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”_

“I’m…I’m sorry, Taiga. ’m real sorry, you gotta know that, okay? I love you, I love you so much – “

“ _Please tell me you’re joking. This isn’t funny. Daiki. C’mon. Where are you? Are you_ hurt _?”_

“I…I dunno. I…it’s too late, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, they won’t make it in time – "

 _“Where_ are _you_? _I’m comin’ to get you. Hang in there, okay? Stay on the phone with me, don’t stop talking until I get there!”_ Jingling of keys, a door being slammed shut, heavy footfalls pounding down stairs. Frantic, panicked breathing - Aomine pictures Kagami's healthy, beating,  _alive_ heart jumping erratically, and it hurts him more than he can say. 

“No! I want _you_ to talk, I wanna hear your voice  – "  The sounds of sirens finally fill the graveyard silence pressing down on Aomine’s eardrums, and he closes his eyes. Warmth spills from them, down his bloody temples to wet his hair.

_“I’m not leaving, I promise. Tell me, where are you?”_

“Taiga.”

_“For the love of all that is good and holy, please, Daiki, please - "_

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

_“Please! Please tell me where you are!”_

Aomine sucks in a ragged breath, and then another, unable to keep up his façade any longer. He’s struggling for each inhale; each exhale feels like knives stabbing his lungs, his stomach, _everything._ “You know, right? That I love you. Oh God, you’re so… _good_. So perfect. Y-your stupid eyebrows ‘n your stupid h-hair ‘n...ah. Everythin'".

 _“Daiki, please, please please tell me, Jesus fuck,_ no _– "_

“I can’t. I don’t know. Taiga, I – “ he chokes, blood gurgling up from his punctured lungs. He coughs, turns his head to the side and spits out what he can. “It hurts,” he whimpers, and then there’s a horrible sound in his ear, a ragged wailing, a desperate kind of savage agony and it _kills him, is killing him faster, oh please let me die before I hear that again._

_“I love you too, Oh God I love you too, so much, more than I could ever – "_

Aomine’s fingers go slack, the phone making a soft _clunk_ on the asphalt, and he’s so glad that his wish comes true.

He doesn’t have to hear his Taiga crying ever again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i finally wrote something that wasn't a million words and i mAKE IT SAD WTF.  
> this is based off that one tumblr prompt - if you use tumblr with any consistency i'm sure you know the one I'm talking about. i saw it, mentally went "oh, that's a good idea. evil, but good" and continued scrolling. this means that i no longer have any idea where to find it. so if you have the link to the post i'm talking about please let me know because i wanna give proper credit to the original owner of this idea! 
> 
> after i saw that post i originally wanted to write this for one of my ongoing aokaga stories (NOT PONY I WON'T KILL ANyoNE IN PONY I SWEAR) but i don't have the heart to kill anyone in a story that i put a lot of time into because i get too attached, so i wrote somethin short and sweet (sad) as a little scene of its own. i will most like never write death again because i literally got emotional and depressed writing this so yeah i'm done i got the angst out of my system whatever
> 
> title is lyrics from the song "leave my body" by florence + the machine  
> my tumblr is smileyeeyore.tumblr.com if ya wanna holler! (rhymes....)


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